How Does The Ending Of The Glassmaker Novel Differ From Its Film?

The different endings of ‘The Glassmaker’ as a novel and a film had a very different effect on me as a reader of both. The book’s ending is quietly devastating. It is inward-looking, and unclear. The last chapters of the novel follow the Glassmaker as he remembers his work and traces the path of light through the fragile blown glass that he made. We follow him in his workshop, and we read his letters, and his journal entries, sometimes complete, sometimes broken off in the middle of a sentence. And we follow him as he leaves. The book ends with a letter, and a journal entry, a note of reconciliation to the past perhaps, but no clear or definitive ending to the story of the Glassmaker.

In the film, scenes which in the book are left to the reader’s imagination are translated into action. The confession, the late night return to the workshop, are both brought to the screen as part of a single moment of change in which the protagonist’s glass is displayed in a public exhibition as a form of apology. The final scenes are beautifully shot as a series of tableaux with lots of light and are given a sense of closure which is not present in the book. The decision to stage the final scenes in this way will have been made in order to give the audience a sense of catharsis. The nature of cinema is such that it requires a clear plot arc and here that means that some of the book’s subtleties are lost. The slow revelation of the protagonist’s backstory is condensed into a few flashbacks and a montage. Although these scenes are beautifully shot, they somehow reduce the moral complexity of the novel.

The differences between novel and film create a distinct experience, and one that I greatly enjoyed in both cases. The novel offers a quietly devastating conclusion to the work of exploring themes of fragility and memory, but the ending of the film is also effective in a different way. The film’s ending is very satisfying, the crowd can see that this glassmaker has changed, in the novel we are left with the uncertainty of the protagonist. But this also creates a lot of room to keep thinking about the story after it has ended.

To sum up my thoughts: ‘The Glassmaker’ ends ambiguously and interiorly, ‘The Glassmaker’ screened last night ends outwardly and cinches up all the loose ends of the movie. What I thought were quiet and fragmentary closing scenes in the book of remembered moments, of letters, of the broken glassy shard held up to the light – all leading to possibly one more moment of fragility, of memory, of the attempt to mend/repair, which ultimately cannot be done – are replaced by a big scene with a gallery opening, an act of public apology or a final confrontation that shows forgiveness in a particular way.

As opposed to the novel’s quiet ending with all its open possibilities, the film ties up all the loose ends and gives a clear outlook on what has happened. For the spectator, this is wonderful in the moment it happens, because it shows the emotional consequences of what has been discovered, but it also removes much of the ambiguity left by the novel. I found the movie’s ending beautiful, but it didn’t affect me as deeply as the last line of the book had. It even showed me the beauty of the novel’s ambiguity, left as it was.

The ending of The Glassmaker is so quietly, cunningly wonderful that the movie just can’t match it, and I find this so fascinating. The novel ends with the glassmaker leaving the town to continue his craft in solitude after finally perfecting his ultimate piece to put in the kiln. He also leaves behind a bundle of his unsent letters. The last chapter is pretty internal to the glassmaker, and full of all sorts of dusty refrains to do with light through glass, and how memory refracts and splits. In the end the glassmaker decides to preserve his craft against all public success, and the rest of the town continues to carry on without him. Some of the townsfolk wonder what on earth happened to him, and others will suspect that he broke under the stress and that his leaving was a tiny crack in the glass of their community.

In terms of plot, the film follows the novel and has the protagonist returning to the town for the festival. In a dramatic public display of his work, he reveals the truth about the shattered sculpture that has been weighing on his mind for years. He shows off the perfect piece he has been hiding and comes to terms with his love. The film’s antagonist also has his arc of contrition in this final scene. This is a world away from the complicated motives of the novel’s version and is not a place that I would want to linger. It is in contrast to the novel, a very satisfying ending, given in a hero’s image.

This is all to say that I appreciate both versions. The end of the book stays with me longer because of its ambiguity, but the movie gave me a lump in my throat at just the right moment. Both tell a great story about craft, consequence, and light, and both are so good in their own ways. The novel is all slow, tough, drudgery of making things – and then, finally, all those amazing metaphors about fragility and repair. The movie is all heroic, molten glass, adoring crowd, and forgave-you face. Love them both.